


Days

by meggie272



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, like EXTREME fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggie272/pseuds/meggie272
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three days since...then, and Crowley tries to convince himself that everything is lovely and normal. He fails, but it might be worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: Days.

It's only been a few days since…then.

Crowley determinedly drinks wine and thinks loudly about how lovely and normal everything is.

But it's all changed, really it has.

He isn't sure whether he should keep seeing Aziraphale, the way they used to – at the Ritz and in James Park and in the back of the bookshop, surrounded by dust and words and shitloads more dust. Not that there was anything ever…you know. About it. Unless they were really drunk. Or it was cold. Or they just happened to feel like it.

But it had never been a real problem, not the kind of problem you got incredibly drunk about. Not until they'd decided to face the Apocalypse together, hand-in-hand.

(Well, the hand-holding had only been brief. It had meant something, though, and that was the thing.)

So what the hol…devilish fuck is he supposed to do now?

If he cuts it off with the angel, then it's indicating that things are different. Crowley swallows his wine loudly, happy with this conclusion. He should keep seeing Aziraphale. Perfect. It's the only way to go about it.

Also, he is lonely.

He's not sure if this is the right course of action when he sets eyes on Aziraphale again, four days after their post-Apocalypse lunch date.

"Hi, angel – I was in the neighbourhood so – "

Aziraphale rushes at him, blonde curls askew and eyes misty with annoyingly human emotion. His tartan-clad arms are around him and his head is buried in the crook of Crowley's neck almost instantly. It's scary how fast that slow-looking fellow can move at times.

Yes, things have definitely changed.

"You silly twat," Crowley murmurs into the dusty smell of Aziraphale's soft hair. "You complete and total fuckwit."

"I missed you," Aziraphale says, the words muffled against Crowley's expensive collar.

"Fair enough," Crowley says carefully.

Aziraphale suddenly pulls away, like he's been jerked back on a wire. His face is flushed pink and it should be unattractive, but it isn't.

"I'm…sorry," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

Crowley bites his lip.

"Don't be?" he tries.

"I know you…I know you don't…I mean…I know that in the past we, we have – uhm, but I just thought that things might have changed."

Crowley stares. Aziraphale stares. There's a silence that is positively congested with staring.

"...come to think of it you've never really been the hugging type – " Aziraphale starts up again weakly.

"Oh, shut  _up,_ angel!" Crowley snaps, but he won't stop blathering on, so he has to find other means of quieting him.

There's a day after that and another one and another one and a cascade of them sliding away one after another and they all have Aziraphale in them and Crowley has definitely had worse times.

Definitely.


End file.
